


don't trust the Argent in dorm 23

by kirargent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Not Human, Were-Creatures, background Allison Argent/Lydia Martin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you know there's an <i>Argent</i> in the next room?”</p><p>Kira blinks. “A what?”</p><p>Looking aggrieved, Malia plows further into the room, pacing on Kira's carpet. “Don't play stupid, kitsune.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't trust the Argent in dorm 23

**Author's Note:**

> For [inelegantalligator](http://inelegantalligator.tumblr.com) as part of the [teenwolffemslashexchange](http://teenwolffemslashexchange.tumblr.com). Thank you so, so much for organizing this!!

It's two in the morning when the girl from down the hall with the short hair and the penchant for short shorts regardless of the season bursts through Kira's door and slams it behind herself, leaning against it and breathing hard. Kira, who's been doing some early, early morning comic-reading by the buttery light of her bedside lamp, scrambles to her bare feet. Her purple shorts are small enough to make her wish for the warmth of her blankets again as soon as she's out of bed.

“Uh,” she says, because she's fantastic with words. A total killer with the ladies. Watch out, University of San Francisco, Kira Yukimura is here, pan, and ready to ramble and blush awkwardly until you're freaked out enough to run. “It's Malia, right?”

Malia narrows her eyes. “Yes,” she says. Then: “Did you know there's an  _Argent_  in the next room?”

Kira blinks. “A what?”

Looking aggrieved, Malia plows further into the room, pacing on Kira's carpet. “Don't play stupid, kitsune.”  _Oh, crap_ , Kira thinks. She thought she'd been doing a better job keeping under the radar. “An Argent. As in, the hunters? Look, I don't know about you, but I didn't come to college hoping to get offed by a silver bullet before the end of the first quarter.”

“Um,” Kira says for the second time.

Malia stops pacing. She looks at Kira expectantly. “Well?”

“Well... what?” Kira echoes.

“Well, what do you know?” Malia demands. “Does she know about you? Do you think she knows about me? Is she here to hunt, or is it all just a big crazy coincidence?” She narrows her eyes again. “You believe in coincidences, kitsune?”

“It's Kira, not 'kitsune,'” Kira snaps, suddenly annoyed. “And no, I don't, but classes have been in session for almost two months and neither of us are dead yet, so don't you think you might be overreacting a little?”

Malia stares at her. Until two minutes ago Kira'd had no idea Malia was a were-something, but now that she knows, it makes a lot of sense. There's a terrifying strength and sharpness to Malia that makes it easy to imagine her with a snarl full of animal teeth.

“Fine,” she says lowly, still staring at Kira. “You want to pretend nothing's going on until you get iced in your sleep, be my guest.”

And with that, she leaves.

“That was weird,” Kira tells Clint Barton, plopping back onto her bed and flipping open her comic book.

“So, Malia's a werewolf.” She looks at Clint, twisting her lip between her teeth. “A weird one.”

Knocking an arrow, Clint doesn't respond. (Which,  _good_. Because that would be crazy, and Kira's had her dose of crazy for the night, thanks.)

“A weird, gorgeous one.”

With a sigh, she settles back against her pillows.

 

* * *

 

It's one of those late fall afternoons where it looks sunny and warm out, but the wind is thick and heavy with chill. Kira tugs her beanie more firmly onto her head, scanning a page of her textbook.

She is  _not_ , she tells herself for the fourth time, sitting outside in this unpleasant weather because a certain Allison Argent is laughing with a redhead at a picnic table nearby; she is here because the fresh air is nice, and she needed to be away from the comics and internet connection available in her dorm room to get some real reading done before Biology tomorrow.

“Scoping out the threat?” a dry voice asks.

Kira jumps. She looks up over her right shoulder. Smirking down at her is Malia.

“No,” Kira says obstinately. She shakes her Biology book:  _see, look_. “I'm catching up on my homework.”

Malia drops to a crouch beside her. “Outside,” she intones. “In this weather. You're doing your homework. And Argent just  _happens_  to be over there with her friend.”

Kira lifts her jaw stubbornly. “Yes.”

“Uh-huh,” Malia says. “Anyway, something's up. That girl with Argent? Definitely not human.”

Kira tries not to ask. She really, really tries. But Cindy Moon help her,  _what the heck?_

“What do you mean?” she demands, eyes fixed on the girl with the long, impeccably curled strawberry hair. “What is she?”

The girl rests her chin on her hand, smiling as Allison talks. She's been scooting minute increments closer on the picnic bench for the last half hour; by now, she's practically in Allison's lap. Kira can't say that Allison looks displeased.

Malia still hasn't answered her. Kira turns to look at her questioningly; Malia's mouth curls in a slow smile. “I thought you didn't care,” she reminds Kira.

“I said you were overreacting, not that I wasn't interested,” Kira argues. “And anyway, that was before she was flirting with a... um, whatever that girl is.”

“Whatever you say, kitsune,” Malia says easily.

“It's Kira,” Kira grumbles, but Malia's already rising back to her feet.

“I don't recognize the scent,” she explains, “but I know it's not human.” She hesitates a second, still standing there but not speaking. “Listen, I'm gonna try to figure out what's going on. I know you're not worried, or whatever, but—anyway, my last class ends at eight, and then I'm gonna head to Argent's room. So.” She twists her hands together, something Kira herself does when she's anxious. “If you change your mind, or whatever.”

She turns and leaves, taking long strides across the grass. Kira's eyes follow her. Her boots are weather-appropriate, but Kira can't imagine she's not freezing in those damn jean shorts.

Then again, if Kira had those legs, she'd probably wear shorts all the time, too.

 

* * *

 

“I'm only here to make sure you don't do something stupid and get yourself killed,” Kira informs Malia in a whisper.

When Kira turns back from locking her dorm room behind herself, Malia's grin is as sharp as ever. “Aw,” she says. “You care about me.”

Kira huffs. “ _No_ ,” she says, “I just like this school, and I don't like my odds of staying here if my parents find out a werewolf got killed on campus.”

“Coyote,” Malia says.

“Sorry—what?”

“Coyote. Were-coyote. Not wolf.”

Kira blinks a few times. “Oh,” she says. “Um, okay. Well—still. Keep your coyote butt alive so I don't get dragged back to New York, okay?”

Malia's eyes flick over Kira's face; she smiles a little, looking softer than Kira's seen her look before. “I guess I can do that.” Her tone has a weird quality to it—more genuine than dry, more kind than sarcastic. Kira looks at Malia's warm brown eyes, at the nice bow of her mouth.

A spark lights behind those eyes, and the sharpness returns to Malia's smile, snapping the strange moment. “Come on,” Malia whispers, then starts down the hall. She stops outside the room next to Kira's.

Her eyes drop closed; she listens for a moment. Kira watches her. When her eyes open again, she mouths,  _They're in there_ , pointing to the door.

A warm wave of frustration surges in Kira's chest at the fact that kitsunes, unlike were- wolves and coyotes, are not bestowed with hyper-hearing. Feeling rather ridiculous, she settles for good, old-fashioned pressing her ear against the wall next to the door.

A voice comes filtered through the wall, delicate but still authoritative. “... _with that dress? Allison, please._ ” There's the shuffling sounds of movement, a couple  _thunks_. “ _Here, try these on._ ”

“So...” Kira says, realizing Malia's taken up post leaning against the wall beside her, “what exactly are we listening for?”

Malia shrugs, her eyes closed. “Anything that gives us answers.”

“Great,” Kira mumbles. “That's helpful, thank you.”

Malia is silent. Kira goes back to listening.

“... _better_ ,” Allison's friend is saying. “ _Boots with that dress—really, sweetheart. It's a wonder you make it out the door without me in the morning._ ” There are footsteps, and some sounds that make Kira think maybe they're kissing.

“ _We should move in together_ ,” Allison says lightly. “ _You could dress me every day._ ” There's laughter in her voice.

“ _Don't tease me, Argent,_ ” says the other voice. “ _You know I'd love that_.”

There's some rustling, and then: “ _Ah-ah-ah! You're gonna make us late if you keep trying that. Hurry up and fix your lipstick._ ”

Malia must realize a split second before Kira does that the girls are about to step out into the hall, because by the time Kira jerks away from the wall her eyes are open wide, her stance spring-loaded.

 _Crap!_  Kira thinks. Her eyes dart desperately back in the direction of her own dorm. The hall seems to have stretched; her door seems impossibly far away. They  _might_  make it. She's a kitsune, after all, so there's that nifty super-speed business, and Malia's part coyote, but the knob of Allison's door is already turning.

Kira's eyes bug. Heart flailing in her chest, she grabs at Malia's wrist and tugs her close, looping a hand around the back of her neck, leaning up on her toes and whispering, “Can I?” around the panic in her throat.

Malia's lips part. She blinks. Silently, she nods.

Kira rushes their mouths together just as the door swings open. She's in too much of a hurry. Their noses crash. Malia makes a noise in her throat; she tilts her head to fix the angle, and then Kira thinks, underneath,  _ow, my nose!_  that  _dang, Malia has soft lips_.

Mostly to stop it from shaking too visibly, Kira fists her free hand in the front of Malia's shirt, using the one at the back of her neck to keep Malia's mouth in place. Malia's hands—terrifyingly strong coyote hands,  _yikes!_ —are suddenly cradling Kira's jaw, very warm and very solid and very nice. Kira teases at Malia's top lip with the tip of her tongue, heart pounding at a furious pace in her chest.  _How far will she let me go_? she wonders. Almost like she's answering, like she's saying,  _well, at least a little further_ , Malia opens her mouth for Kira's tongue.

Kira's heart does a triple stutter as she's suddenly viscerally aware of several things at once: one) the inside of Malia's mouth is hot and silky-soft and very, very awesome, and two) she's gonna want to do this  _all the freaking time_  now, and three) Allison Argent and her mysterious non-human girlfriend are in the hallway staring at them.

Feeling her cheeks blaze up, Kira turns her head away from Malia and fumbles to free her hands. She peeks out at Allison Argent from around Malia, her embarrassment very much not faked. “Sorry. We got a little—caught up,” she says sheepishly.

Malia is blinking, her lips pink and her eyes dark.

Kira forces at smile in the direction of Allison and her friend. The friend's lips are pursed, but thankfully Allison smiles back. “It's no problem,” she assures Kira. “We were just leaving, anyway.”

With just one more super awkward smile from Kira, they turn and leave.

Kira grins up at Malia, adrenaline fizzing in her blood. “That was close, huh?”

Malia looks a little dazed. “Um,” she says. She licks her lips. Kira's eyes track the movement. “Yeah. Close.” She looks away. Kira has time now that she lacked before to wonder if she's just permanently wrecked any hope of Malia not totally hating her.

“I'm gonna tail them,” Malia says. She looks at Kira again; her eyes are clear now. “You coming?”

Kira swallows down an unexpected swell of disappointment. “Can't let you get killed, can I?” she asks with a weak smile.

 

* * *

 

“You think she has any idea she's dating an Argent?” Malia bounces absentminded hands on her knees, her feet propped on the dash of Kira's car. “You think Argent's playing her?”

Kira chews her lip. “You mean, like she's hunting her? You think that girl might be in danger?” She glances away from the road long enough to see Malia shrug.

“It wouldn't be a bad strategy. Get close to target. Gain target's trust. Sleep with target, slit target's throat before you leave in the morning.”

Kira scrunches her nose. “She's a person, Malia. Can you call her something a little more respectful than 'target'?”

Malia looks unexcited about this proposal. Kira rolls her eyes.

“And anyway, we don't know that Argent's got it out for her.”

“Don't we?” Malia insists.

Kira is quiet. She wants to say no, but what are the chances the youngest of a long, long legacy of hunters has a supernatural girlfri—

Malia's back goes rigid. “ _Wolf_.”

Kira glances at her. “What?”

“Werewolf. I smell one.”

Kira's pulse speeds. “Where?”

Malia's looking at the window. She frowns. “I don't know. But they're strong.”

 _Great_ , Kira thinks.

“And close.”

 _Even better_.

Allison's turn signal flashes alive. Kira scrambles to flick hers on too. She follows Allison's little black car into a parking lot underneath a brilliant neon sign for a bowling alley, eyes shifting between the road and her tense companion.

“They're just going bowling,” she tells Malia. “How bad can bowling be?”

“I don't like this,” Malia says, finally facing forward again. She grips the armrest uneasily.

“Well, I'm parking,” Kira tells her. She spins the wheel, pulling them into a spot near the back of the lot, away from the bright yellow light spilling from the doors of the alley.

She turns off the car. Malia unbuckles her seatbelt.

It's quiet.

Kira tries to look at Malia without turning her head. Malia's expression is sour.

Kira bounces her knee a few times. “Do you still smell it? The werewolf?”

Malia nods. Kira chews on her lip.

“Can you hear Allison? What are they doing?”

Malia's jaw tightens. “It's hard with all the bowling,” she explains. “I think they met someone inside, but—.” She shakes her head. “I can't focus. There's too much noise.”

“Oh,” Kira says. She leans back in her seat.

A few moments pass—Kira's thinking about how gosh darn nice it was kissing Malia against the wall earlier, and wondering if Malia might like to do it again sometime, or maybe if she's into the whole backseat-of-the-car thing—and then Malia tenses again, going visibly tight all over. Her neck extends; her shoulders bunch; her fingers elongate as Kira watches, which is  _not cool_.

“Hey, watch the car!” Kira yelps, swatting at Malia's hand. “Dude, I don't want claw-marks all over my armrests!”

“Would you shut up?” Malia hisses. “I lost the wolf. I was distracted trying to listen, and now I don't know...” she looks around, all coiled muscle, “...where it is.” The night outside the window looks suddenly very dark.

“Oh,” Kira says. Her mouth feels dry; her heart doesn't want to beat a consistent rhythm. “Uh-oh.” She hesitates. “Still, um. Could you watch it with the claws?”

Malia gives her a sharp look.

“Look, I don't want to have to explain why it looks like a coyote got loose in here, okay? So can you just—” she gestures vaguely, “cool it? Maybe?”

There's a crisp knock at Kira's window; she jumps, shrieks. Turning away from Malia, who's snorting at her, Kira thumbs the button to roll the window down for a boy with dark hair and an easy smile.

“Hey, uh. Can we help you?” Kira asks. She returns his smile with a confused one of her own. She hears movement behind her; the car shakes as the passenger door is slammed.

“Wh—Malia?” Kira turns, doesn't see Malia, turns again, and jumps: Malia and the stranger are facing each other outside Kira's window. Malia looks ready to spring.

“What do you want, werewolf?” Malia demands.

 _Oh_ , Kira thinks.

The boy raises his hands like,  _look, I come in peace_. “Just to know why you've been following my friends,” he says calmly.

Oh boy.

Fumbling with the lock, Kira gets out of her car. She's not totally sure if she's getting ready to hold Malia back or help her fight this guy off if need be, but either way, at least now she's on her feet.

“Your friends?” Malia sounds a little confused, but mostly mad. Kira's realizing that angry is kind of her go-to emotion. “Do you know who that is in there?”

“Who? Lydia, or Allison?”

Malia narrows her eyes. “The one who hunts your kind as a career, dumbass.”

“Oh,” the werewolf says. “That's what this is about.” His smile goes a little strained. “Look, Allison's not like that. She's my friend.” Seeing the steel in Malia's eyes, he hesitates. “You don't believe me.”

“Damn right I don't.”

He sighs. “Do you want to meet her? Would that help?”

“No, I don't want to  _meet_  her—”

“She doesn't hunt?” Kira asks over Malia's retort.

“No,” the wolf says, looking to Kira with earnest eyes. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Kira says, nodding. “We'll meet her.”

 

* * *

 

“Why do you have a death wish?” Malia mutters to Kira, sticking close as the wolf, Scott, pushes through the doors into the bowling alley. After the inky late-evening outside, Kira has to blink in the florescent lighting. The air is thick with the bright sounds of pins clattering and balls thumping and cheers erupting from friends.

“I don't have a death wish,” Kira says, eyes not leaving Scott as he guides them toward two familiar figures a few lanes down. “Scott said Allison's not a hunter.”

“Yeah, and I'm not a coyote, and I'm not wishing I could rip his head off right now without getting arrested.”

“Very funny,” Kira says dully.

Malia grunts.

“Allison,” Scott says, reaching their lane, “this is Kira. She's in the dorm next to yours.”

Kira forces a smile. “Um,” she says. What are you supposed to say to the girl who caught you making out outside her room and who apparently knows you've been stalking her? Kira settles for a meek: “Hi,” and a tiny wave.

Allison gives her a nod; she even smiles back, though her brow is furrowed. Lydia surveys them coolly and silently.

Kira would elbow Malia to remind her to be polite, but Malia is not at her side. Frowning, Kira glances around to find Malia, startlingly, hovering just behind her right shoulder.

“Um,” Kira says, noting Malia's wary eyes and on-edge posture. “This is Malia.”

Lydia cocks her head, coppery hair resting in a silky wave down her shoulder. “As thrilling as it is to finally meet you,” she says, drawing out the words with a delicate carelessness, “I'm more interested to know why you've been following us the past few days.”

“Oh, gosh,” Kira says.  _So_  good with words. She twists her hands together in front of herself nervously. “Uh, you wanna take this one, Malia?”

Malia looks like she might start snarling any second. Kira takes that as a “no.”

“Okay, look, we're not—we're not creepy or anything, promise. We just—Malia found out you're an Argent, and we were— _she_  was worried you might be here hunting us, but then you were hanging out with a —um, whatever Lydia is, and so then we thought maybe you were hunting  _her_ , but now...” Helplessly, Kira looks to Malia. Malia's eyeing Scott, Lydia, and Allison like she's mentally determining the best tactical plan to take them all down as quickly as possible. “So, um. Sorry for sort of stalking you?” Kira finishes in a rush. She'd like to get them to explain themselves before Malia decides she's had enough of this chatting and launches into coyote-mode. “And, uh. What  _is_  going on here?”

Lydia observes them with disinterested green eyes, her mouth a pretty pink frown of boredom. Conversely, Scott looks earnest. He reminds Kira of a puppy, or maybe a small kid: looking between Lydia and Kira, he looks like a toddler standing between members of an argument, eyes flicking back and forth between them, hope-filled and pleading for a peaceful resolution.

And Allison looks... Well, Kira's not sure, exactly. There's a dip to her brow and a twitch to her mouth that might be amusement, but then there's something else in her wide brown eyes that Kira can't quite decipher.

“I'm so sorry I scared you!” Allison blurts finally. Her expression clicks into clarity: she feels bad. “I'm not even into the whole family business thing, honestly. At least, not by the old code.” She grimaces a little. Face clearing, she reaches down, twines her fingers through Lydia's. Lydia still looks resolutely uninterested in everything that's going on. “Look, my girlfriend's a banshee, and my best friend's a werewolf. I'm not a threat to you guys. Seriously.” She grins. “I didn't even have any idea there was a wolf next door to me. Some hunter I am, huh?”

“Kitsune,” Malia pipes up.

Surprised, Allison looks at her. Even Lydia's eyebrows tilt upward a little.

Under their gazes, Malia shrinks back again. (Malia shying away from anything is a sight to see, Kira thinks.) “She's a kitsune,” Malia explains. “Not a wolf.”

“Oh,” Allison says. She blinks a few times. “That's so cool!”

Kira's cheeks feel warm.

“I guess I just assumed if you were worried about me hunting you, you'd be a werewolf.” She looks at Malia again. “What about you? Are you a wolf?”

Malia looks suspicious.

“She's a were-coyote,” Kira says helpfully. Malia glares at her, but Allison gives her a smile, and Lydia looks like she's devoting maybe a full third of her attention to the conversation now, so Kira ignores the glare.

“So you guys are just, like... friends?” Kira asks.

Allison looks bemused. “Of course.”

“Oh,” Kira says. She bites her lip. “What do you... do? Hang out and talk about full moons and silver bullets, or... ?”

Scott grins at her. “Mostly we go bowling.”

Allison giggles. Lydia manages a thin smile that almost looks genuine.

Kira's cheeks feel hot. “Oh,” she says. “That. Makes more sense.” She ducks her head, willing away the flame behind her face. From behind her, an arm nudges hers. Malia offers her a tiny smile. Kira's cheeks blaze up some more, but in an entirely more pleasant manner this time.

“Hey, don't be embarrassed.” Kira meets Allison's eyes gratefully. “We're a pretty odd bunch.” Scott nods. “I mean, normal friend groups probably don't have full moon movie marathons or fight off the occasional predatory beast, so.  _Mostly_  we go bowling. But we do the other stuff, too.”

Not sure what to say, Kira manages a smile, at least.

“You want to join our lane?” Scott asks, face brightening. “We haven't started yet, so if you don't want to wait around until another lane frees up...”

“Oh!” Kira says. Again. “Um, that's really nice of you, but we didn't actually come to bowl.”

Malia kicks her in the ankle. Pretty hard. Kira does her best to mask her wince with a tight smile. She glares back at Malia, but Malia's gazing around the alley with a bored expression, pretending like she doesn't care about the outcome of this conversation at all. “But you know what?” Kira amends, beaming at Scott. “We'd love to. Thanks.”

“Awesome!” Scott says, looking like he genuinely means it. Who knew that the friendliest person Kira's met since she got here would be... well, not a person, but a werewolf.

Lydia and Scott lean over the lane console to punch in everyone's names, and Allison zips off deeper into the alley on a quest for nachos and soda. Kira plops into a chair and pulls her knees up to her chest. Malia hovers near her, but doesn't take a seat.

“I thought you didn't think we should trust them,” Kira says slyly.

Malia crosses her arms, watching a toddler hurl a green ball toward the pins in the lane beside them. “I don't.”

“Oh,” Kira says. “Right. So that kick to my ankle  _didn't_  mean 'please, Kira, I want to stay and bowl with our new friends'?”

“Of course not,” Malia says stubbornly. She sits down next to Kira, still watching the next lane. Her eyes narrow. “I mean, I did check Allison's heartbeat while she was talking, and she wasn't lying when she said she wasn't a threat. So, I think we'll be okay.”

“Aw, and now you're excited to have new friends!” Kira prods.

Malia rolls her eyes.

She doesn't, however, have time to deny it before Allison returns, carrying a big tray of cheese-covered chips triumphantly. “Snacks are on me!” she announces, setting the tray down carefully.

Silently, Malia takes a chip.

“Thanks,” Kira says for both of them, smiling.

Allison waves a hand, folding into a chair across from them. “Don't worry about it.”

Scott joins them, grabbing a few nachos and sitting beside Allison. Kira watches Lydia select a bright pink bowling ball from the rack.

Allison leans in, a conspiratorial glitter in her dark eyes. “So, I was wondering—are you two really a thing, or was making out in front of my dorm just a convenient cover?”

Kira opens her mouth, about to admit their farse—but then she feels the faint warmth of Malia sitting next to her and the weight of Malia's eyes on her cheek, and she stops herself, looking at Malia with the same question in her eyes as before they kissed:  _Can I?_

Malia gives her a tiny smile, soft instead of weaponized.

“We're really a thing,” Kira tells Allison at the same time Malia bumps their shoulders and says, “We're dating.”

Kira bites her lips but can't stop a grin, her cheeks hot.

“Cool!” Allison says.

“You guys are cute together,” Scott tells them happily, standing, wiping cheese from his fingers to take his turn.

Happiness bubbles in Kira's chest, warm and buoyant.

Malia takes another nacho, then considers for a second, grabs another, and offers it to Kira. Kira accepts the chip.

She takes a bite of the stale tortilla chip with its coating of cheap, glue-like cheese, and watches Scott bowl two gutter-balls in a row, then turn back to them and do a silly little victory dance. Lydia scoffs; Allison cackles. Malia shifts a little closer to Kira on her seat.

 _I love college_ , Kira thinks, and grins.


End file.
